Fox in the Hen House
by Brueghel
Summary: Blake/Avon; sort of. Written for a challenge: slash/stripping/sponge bath/nothing dark/just a bit of fun. Don't read if you like your Blake straight, but it's all very innocent really.


B/A(ish) Written in response to a challenge:_ slash/stripping/sponge bath/no sex/nothing dark/just a bit of fun_.

Blake's thoughts about a member of his crew. Don't read if you like your Blake straight but it's all very innocent really.

* * *

Fox in the Hen house

After teleporting back to the ship, Blake lifted the unconscious tech in his arms and rushed off to the isolation ward. The others stayed well out of sight. Physical contact was forbidden until Cally gave the word. Both Blake and Avon had possibly been exposed to the virus, that killed all the occupants of the base on the planet below. And to make matters worse, just before they were transported back, Avon had tripped and fallen head first into a muddy pond outside the building.

He had hit his head on a rock in the pond and was lucky that Blake had not wandered off too far. The tech would certainly have drowned if Blake hadn't grabbed one of the arms that was still visible above water. He had been able to drag him onto dry land. It would have been ironic if Avon, who so detested water sports would have met his death in that shallow pond.

Blake lowered the unconscious man on one of the examination tables and heard the doors close solidly behind him.

"Are you OK?"

It was Cally's voice that startled him. She, Vila and Jenna had gathered behind the window in the adjoining room, from which the isolation ward could be monitored.

"Yes." replied Blake with a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

"What happened to Avon?" Vila asked. He seemed genuinely worried about Avon. Of course he wasn't too happy about the possible virus they had taken aboard either.

"He just tripped and fell awkwardly. I think he hit his head pretty hard."

"Well, let's hope it knocked the arrogance out of him." Vila regretted the remark the moment he'd said it. But before he could apologize they were startled by a slight movement from the man in question. He was still unconscious, but his body contracted in a shiver.

"You have to get him out of his wet clothes." Cally said.

Blake looked at her blankly when he realized that it was in fact necessary and he was the only person who could perform the action. Automatically his eyes sought out Jenna; the only one he had ever confided in. Jenna and Blake had been close from the very beginning and when it was clear to Blake that his pilot wanted more from him than just a warm friendship, he had told her about his inclination for men. After that revelation Jenna had recognized his affection for Avon for what it was, long before Blake had actually grasped it himself.

She smiled at him. A dangerously suggestive smile. Amused about the fact that Blake had to do what he probably had done a thousand times...in his dreams.

She should know. She was still sometimes plagued by dreams like that about Blake. She sympathized with him. Avon was completely oblivious to their leader's secret. And the man guarded his private space meticulously. There would be hell to pay if he suddenly regained consciousness.

Blake sighed and turned around, resolved. There was nothing to it, right? He was just helping an incapacitated member of his crew out of his wet clothes so he wouldn't catch pneumonia.

He approached the bed and practically begged for this icy sneering voice to tell him to keep the hell away.

In vain. But for the humming noises of the monitors and scanners that Cally was operating, there was no sound at all.

Blake's fingers were actually trembling when he reached for the buttons of Avon's tunic. When he touched the first one a thunderous sound filled his ears and he was thrown off his feat. It took a few seconds before he realized that he had not been struck by the Wrath of Avon. The unconscious man hadn't moved a muscle.

"We're under attack!" He heard Jenna scream. She and Vila sprang into action and made for the flight deck. Cally remained at the controls in the observation room.

Blake rose, feeling utterly helpless. Adrenaline shot through his system. He needed to be on the flight deck right now. Needed to lead the counter attack. Needed to know what was happening.

"Sorry, Blake. " Cally's sympathetic voice sounded through the com. "I cannot let you out until we've determined that you're both clean."

"How long?"

"According to ORAC's calculations you're to stay in there at least 24 hours. To make sure you don't infect all of us."

"If we are infected."

"Yes well, there is only one way to find out."

Blake nodded his head. "I know. Wait 24 hours."

"Sorry."

The ship took another direct hit and that shook Blake into action. He had to do something. Being under attack and not being able to fight was extremely frustrating. Might as well keep himself busy with the job at hand.

He turned to the unconscious man on the examining table, still sleeping like a baby, completely unaware of the danger they were in. Blake had never seen Avon like this. The man was an insomniac and sometimes Blake suspected that he didn't sleep at all and had to pester the rest of the crew with his foul mood as a result of this lack of sleep. But now he looked completely innocent and harmless, like any other sleeping creature.

His hair was still wet and tousled. A smear of dirt across his cheek. His eyes were shut, but apparently there was a lot going on in his brain judging by the rapid eye movement underneath. Did this mean he was waking up?

"Blake, take his clothes off!" Cally's urgent voice through the com. "The equipment has trouble penetrating the moist. I can't get any clear readings on him."

Blake gave himself a mental push. Certainly he would be able to detach his feelings from his actions in this case. He had been able to keep his self control on many occasions where Avon was concerned. But on those occasions it had been his temper and aggression he'd had to keep a reign on, not his libido.

He unbuttoned the man's jacket and lifted his upper body in order to be able to take the unwilling wet cloth off. Avon's head rested against his shoulder in the process. Blake couldn't help noticing the musky smell of Avon's sweat that penetrated his nose. A very uncharacteristic smell for the tech. Blake sometimes wondered if he was traveling with a robot. He had seldom seen Avon sweat.

He carefully lowered the body back on the table. Next came the undershirt. Blake swallowed hard when he saw the contours of Avon's chest through the wet cloth. He had never seen Avon naked. Well, that was a lie. He saw Avon's naked body every night in his dreams, but that didn't count. He had been living together with this man for over a year now and he had never seen more skin revealed than an open shirt button on occasion. Kerr Avon harnessed himself into his clothing and that drove Blake wild. He was desperate to know what lay beneath all those layers of clothing.

Blake felt the urge to touch the body that lay sprawled out before him like a birthday present waiting to get unwrapped. How he would love to touch the pale skin...to let his hands wander underneath the wet shirt...to feel the firmness of this body he so desired.

He cleared his throat in order to regain some control of the feelings that were running away with him. He tried to concentrate on the here and now. On reality. On the danger that was threatening them.

"What's the word from the flight deck?" , he asked Cally.

After a brief delay she answered that everything was fine. Jenna had taken the Liberator out of range of the two pursuit ships.

They were in the clear.

Damn.

No more merciful distractions.

Blake lifted Avon's arms, pulling the short sleeves through and raised him into sitting position again in order to be able to take the shirt off. He felt the cold skin underneath his fingers, moist and soft. The man was stone-cold, although the temperature in the isolation ward was agreeable. He cast a worried look at his face, but there was absolutely no sign of consciousness there.

"Come on Avon, wake up.", he whispered while carefully lowering the dead weight backwards again. He then started on the black trousers, worked them open and tried to pull them down. Avon always wore tight pants and now they were wet, tight pants on an uncooperative body. It took the rebel leader considerable effort to take them off and with it Avon's briefs came down. Blake found himself carefully avoiding the area he had just revealed.

He took off the man's boots and socks, gathered the wet clothes in a bundle and put the garments in the airtight case for ORAC and Cally to examine. He placed the case in the anti-contamination compartment, where it would automatically be examined by the ship's medical computer and its smarter cousin.

He straightened his back and regarded the naked man on the bed. Avon would be furious if he woke up now. He would never forgive Blake for this intrusion on his person, however forced by events he might have been.

"Aren't there any blankets here?"

"In the cabinet on your right." said Cally without looking up from her instrument panel.

Blake found the white cotton sheets, unfolded one and was glad he could now finally cover up the temptation before him.

"Before you do that, could you see if he's got any injuries on his body. Cuts, scratches you know the sort of thing. You can look for them while you rub him dry."

_Rub him dry?_

Blake would have protested if it weren't for the fact that he feared that his vocal chords would deliver his sentences an octave higher than usual.

"Towels are next to the sheets." This time it was Jenna's voice and even the metallic sound of the com couldn't hide her amusement. He gave her a look. If Jenna kept this up, soon every member of the crew would know about Blake's secret. And then it would only be a matter of time before Avon found out and that would be the end of it. One more reason for him to leave for his bolthole.

Blake retrieved a towel and began drying the naked tech. The rubbing made Avon's white skin red and shiny. Blake did the arms, the torso, legs, feet and hair. Then he placed another dry towel on the man's loins and covered him with the sheet.

"No injuries." Blake said, carefully avoiding the pair of eyes he felt boring into him. "What do your readings say, Cally?" "Well, so far you seem to be all right but to be on the safe side, ORAC suggest that you both take a sponge bath."

"Sponge b...". The rest of the sentence died in his throat.

If the situation weren't so grave, he would have thought the crew had teamed up to play a practical joke on him.

_How am I supposed to bathe Avon when he's unconscious?_

"You do not have to move the patient." ORAC said in answer to his unspoken question. "I suggest you use the disinfectant soap from the medical cabinet."

The snappy, impatient voice of the little computer couldn't help Blake from having visions of a pink Avon lying in a steamy bath full of creamy bubbles, his body glistening and rosy.

"I just rubbed him dry..." Blake protested feebly.

"Sorry, Blake. " Cally again. She was still busy with the readings that ORAC and the ship's medical computer provided her. "There's no alarming data yet, but until we get some solid readings we had better be on the safe side."

Blake turned his back to his crew members and regarded the man on the examining table.

_Please forgive me, Avon. Let's just say that aliens make me do this._

* * *


End file.
